Leslie's Early Years: Admiration Society
by FantasyIslander65
Summary: Leslie has a busy summer weekend, which culminates in an embarrassing surprise. Third in the 'Early Years' series.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Being in between brand-new FI stories at the moment and trying to get my FictionPress project advanced, I thought I'd fill in the gap by adding to Leslie's first few years on the island. It was my first attempt at an original fantasy with Leslie along for the ride. This story also introduces someone whose name may sound somewhat familiar to you. Enjoy and please review! Special thanks to jtbwriter for all the loyal and enthusiastic support, for all the names I write under!_

* * *

§ § § -- July 12, 1979

School had let out for the summer on May 30, and Leslie had passed to the ninth grade with flying colors, to the pride of both Roarke and Tattoo. Now, with free days until the first Tuesday after Labor Day, Leslie was able to lend a bigger hand to Roarke and Tattoo in the business of bringing dreams to life, though she still played a very limited role. Mostly she was a glorified go-fer, but even that was enough to give her a sense of contributing. Her friends grew a little envious, but she always told them about each weekend's pair of fantasies and how they had turned out, giving the other girls the feeling that they had an in on the activity for which their home island was world-famous. Camille, still pricklier than the other girls, grumbled now and then about living vicariously through Leslie, but the others usually admonished her into silence.

The weekend of May 31 and June 1 had been the last one in which Roarke had granted kids' fantasies as well as those of adults. Cindy had been a tremendous help, but the whole venture had made more work than they could handle; and as often as not—particularly as in the case of Cornelius Kelly and Alphonse—adults arrived without children, even though such fantasies tended to center on kids. Leslie had cried on Roarke's shoulder the morning following the final children's weekend, after the departure of a family who had finally found their child who had been kidnapped two years before. "It was such a great happy ending," she had blubbered when Roarke had asked her why she was bawling so hard. "I wish we could keep granting children's fantasies and do that for every family who has a missing child." Roarke had smiled with regretful agreement and hugged her.

"It's simply not possible to grant every such fantasy in the world, child," he'd said. "I wish the same thing, but it's more difficult than you realize to bring it to fruition. But I'm sure that one day, it will be easier for families and their abducted offspring to be reunited, and they may not even need our help." He wouldn't explain that no matter how much Leslie begged, and she had finally decided it must be Roarke's way of predicting the future.

So the children's-fantasy enterprise, which had really been an experiment, had come to an end, and Roarke and Tattoo had returned to their usual routine. That was why it felt odd to Leslie on the morning of Saturday, July 12, to discover that both of this weekend's fantasies involved teenagers. A large family, headed by a single mother, piled off the plane first, nearly depleting the native girls of their stock of leis.

"Mrs. Corina Knight, recently divorced from a very rich man, and her children Jenny, David, Brian and Tara, all from McMinnville, Oregon," Roarke introduced them. "They lack for very little, if anything, even after the divorce; and Mrs. Knight feels that her children are becoming quite spoiled as a result. Thus her fantasy: to be poor for a weekend."

Leslie laughed. "That's some twist. Should be interesting to watch."

"That's for sure," agreed Tattoo. "But it won't be very hard, huh boss? After all, it's easy to turn someone into a poor person."

"Indeed it is," Roarke said. "And certainly so compared to our other fantasy this weekend. The couple are Jonathan and Ellen Stone, with their two children—Rodney, sixteen, and Joanna, who is your age, Leslie. Five years ago, Mrs. Stone and the children were involved in a serious collision with a drunk driver. Joanna and her mother escaped with minor injuries; however, Rodney was quite badly injured and barely survived. A third child, fifteen-year-old Wendy, was killed."

"Oh no," Leslie murmured.

"That must be why Rodney has that limp," Tattoo observed. The boy did indeed have a pronounced limp, although he walked without assistance.

"Precisely," Roarke said. "Unfortunately, the Stones are on the brink of divorce. Mrs. Stone is obsessed with finding the drunken driver who hit them and bringing him to justice; she has concentrated so fiercely on this, and on the death of her oldest child, that Rodney and Joanna feel neglected, and Mr. Stone has wearied of his wife's tunnel vision. It is his and the children's hope that this weekend will finally cure Mrs. Stone of her single-mindedness and perhaps bring about a satisfactory solution for all of them."

Before either Leslie or Tattoo could ask any more questions, Roarke's drink arrived, and he greeted and toasted his guests as he always did. Under cover of all this, Tattoo leaned behind Roarke and said softly, "Hey, Leslie, that boy's looking at you."

"What boy?" Leslie demanded.

"Look," Tattoo said and gave a jerk of his head in the direction of their guests. Leslie cautiously slanted a peek that way, and realized that Rodney Stone was indeed gazing at her. She felt herself redden; all she needed was more boy trouble. She had enough to deal with, between Michiko's brother, Hachiro "Toki" Tokita, and Camille's brother Tommy!

‡ ‡ ‡

They had about an hour before the first fantasy was to get under way, and Tattoo used the opportunity to gently tease Leslie about attracting Rodney Stone's interest. Roarke looked up in surprise at hearing this and then took in Leslie's red-faced reaction. "What's this, my friend?" he interjected.

"Didn't you see Rodney Stone watching Leslie at the plane dock?" Tattoo asked, as if Roarke had missed something even more obvious than the color of the sky. "She's gonna be beating them off with a stick." He smirked.

"To whom else are you referring?" Roarke asked.

"What do you mean, boss?" Tattoo said blankly.

"You said 'them'," Roarke pointed out. "Are there others besides the Stone boy?"

"Oh." Tattoo laughed. "I guess you missed what happened at Leslie's birthday party a couple months ago. The brothers of two of her friends were there and gave her birthday presents. Tommy Ichino made a nice choice with the necklace he gave her, but that Tokita kid must be a born troublemaker."

Roarke looked faintly puzzled and frowned a little when Tattoo grinned, clearly highly amused. Leslie, on the other hand, was scowling at the memory. "What exactly did Michiko's brother give you, Leslie?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "A book of insults," she said. "Can you imagine that, Mr. Roarke? Poor Michiko was so embarrassed, she kept apologizing for him the rest of the night. I can't figure out what Myeko sees in that clod."

Roarke laughed. "I see. So you already have the attentions of Tommy, not to mention the negative ones from young Hachiro, to deal with. And now apparently Tattoo thinks still another young man has taken notice of you."

Tattoo was still grinning broadly. "On her first day here, she told me that boys don't notice her. Well, Leslie, you were wrong."

"Oh, cut it out," she grumbled. She was so red-faced that Roarke took pity on her.

"Perhaps it's time to drop the subject, my friend," he suggested. "The Stones are due here in a few more minutes."

As though on cue, there was a knock on the door and it opened, admitting the Stone family. Roarke arose and invited them fully inside; Ellen Stone sat, as did Rodney, while her husband and daughter hovered behind Rodney's chair. "Is there anything I can get you?" Roarke inquired.

All four declined, so Roarke sat again and Tattoo took his usual spot near his boss's chair while Leslie settled in her accustomed seat next to the desk, deliberately not looking at Rodney for fear she'd catch him watching her again. "So how do you find Fantasy Island?" Roarke asked.

"Very beautiful," Jonathan Stone said while his wife shifted impatiently in her chair. "I have to admit that Rodney and Joanna weren't too enthusiastic about this trip, but I can see Rodney's found something that might make him change his mind." Leslie blushed furiously and Rodney rolled his eyes, evoking laughter from the adults. Joanna, a slim girl with a close-cut cap of light-blonde hair, peered curiously at her.

"Is she someone who helps you out or something?" Joanna asked.

Roarke smiled at her. "As a matter of fact, she does help me a bit each weekend. This is Leslie Hamilton, my ward, who is fourteen and came to us just a few months ago."

Ellen Stone finally cleared her throat. "Mr. Roarke," she said pointedly, "I thought we were here to discuss my fantasy." At this, annoyed expressions flitted across both Joanna's and Rodney's faces before they settled themselves, as though to expect a long wait and a story they had already heard too many times. Their father merely sighed and gazed out at the scene beyond the open French doors.

"Very well, Mrs. Stone," Roarke said, his voice cooling slightly but as polite as ever. "I know the circumstances of the tragic accident you and your children were involved in, but you didn't say whether you knew the identity of the person who hit you."

"Of course I do," said Ellen Stone, as if to a slow-witted person. "We sued Angela Gorman for damages and emotional trauma. She caused the death of my Wendy, after all, and I want to see her pay. The problem is that she skipped the country as soon as the police released her from the accident scene. The woman didn't have a scratch on her." Her voice was very bitter. "I'm tired of her getting away with what she did. I want to see her pay for it, Mr. Roarke. It's time she got the punishment that's coming to her."

Roarke leaned forward across the desk. "Mrs. Stone, before I continue, I should advise you that it is unwise and very ill-advised to try to take justice into your own hands. There are proper channels through which to pursue your claim against Ms. Gorman—"

Mrs. Stone interrupted him. "Mr. Roarke, you don't understand what I've been through. Five years of anguish and of missing my child, who can never come back to me. Five years of waiting to find out where that woman is and when she's going to face the music. My fantasy is to see her get what she deserves. I paid good money for you to grant it, Mr. Roarke, and I demand that you do!"

Roarke regarded her for a very long minute, during which Stone frowned and Rodney and Joanna looked at each other uneasily. Finally Roarke sat back and said quietly, "Very well, then, you shall have your fantasy. But you yourself may pay a very high price."

"I already have," Ellen Stone said coldly. "Now tell me where to find Angela Gorman."

"Ellen, dammit," her husband broke in warningly, "you're insulting our host. I wouldn't be surprised if he refused to grant you this crazy fantasy of yours; in fact, I wish he would. For the last time, I'm asking you to let it go."

She turned to look at him and her face seemed to crumple. "I can't, Jonathan," she said, her voice breaking. "You know it's impossible!"

He sighed in frustration and flapped a hand as if dismissing her. "Fine, Ellen, fine. But don't expect to find us here when you get what you want." So saying, he turned and stalked out of the house.

Ellen Stone turned her attention back to Roarke, as if Rodney and Joanna didn't exist. "He's never understood, Mr. Roarke. I have to do this—it's for Wendy."

Roarke nodded slowly; Leslie thought there was more he wanted to say, but instead he merely told her where Angela Gorman was. "You'll find her at the hotel."

"Thank you…thank you so much." She rose, pivoted and departed.

"Damn her to hell," Rodney Stone said deliberately when the door had closed behind her. Roarke, Tattoo and Leslie exchanged glances; Joanna turned red. "She claims it's for Wendy, but that's a lie. Wendy's dead and couldn't care less whether she gets justice or not. My mother's doing this for herself, Mr. Roarke."

Roarke nodded slowly and after a moment said quietly, "Yes, I know, Rodney."

Both the Stone children stared at him in astonishment. "Then why didn't you tell her you wouldn't grant her fantasy?" Joanna asked plaintively.

"Unfortunately, children, your mother will have to discover for herself that seeing a dream come true isn't always a desirable thing. As for you two…" He smiled then, his whole demeanor changing. "I can understand that you both feel you are here under duress, because of your mother's fantasy. I don't often do this, but we are going to need some assistance with our other fantasy, and I think you two will fit the bill very nicely."

Rodney and Joanna gawked at him; Leslie turned to him curiously. "How so?"

"The three of you—you, Joanna and Rodney—should be able to fill minor roles in the Knights' fantasy," Roarke said. "We have approximately half an hour before they arrive, so there should be enough time to get you ready. This is what I have in mind…"

‡ ‡ ‡

Corina Knight stood in front of Roarke's desk with her four children—eighteen-year-old Brian, sixteen-year-old Jenny, fourteen-year-old David and nine-year-old Tara—and eyed Roarke hopefully. "I just about had to chain them up to get them here," she told him, ignoring her offspring's mutinous glances. "I'm so fed up with the _gimme, gimme, gimme_ mentality. Their father gives them anything they want, just to spite me. I can't do much about him, but maybe I can do something about them."

Roarke smiled broadly. "I believe we have a scenario that will fit your requirements," he said genially. "It involves time travel, actually, so if you'd rather not risk it, say so now."

Mrs. Knight glanced at the kids, who were staring at one another in surprise at the mention of time travel. Before she could speak, Tara broke in, "Are we going back to the real _old_ days, when all they had was black-and-white TV?"

Her mother rolled her eyes while Roarke stifled a smile and Tara's older brothers and sister snickered. "If you think black-and-white TV was a hardship, try no TV at all," David announced. "They used to sit around and watch the radio every night."

Roarke was grinning a bit by now. "Kids," Mrs. Knight said loudly, "why don't you let Mr. Roarke tell us what he has in mind."

"Jousters in shining armor," Jenny said dreamily. "I'd never have to walk anywhere—men were decent back then and always carried women everywhere."

"Geez," David groaned in disgust.

"The Roman gladiators," Brian offered then. "Always wanted to meet Julius Caesar."

Finally Roarke spoke up. "Actually, I believe I have just the era for you. If you will meet me back here in one hour, then we can begin your fantasy."

"I hope it's not medieval England," David said immediately, while his mother herded her offspring toward the door. "No electricity."

"Filthy, unwashed bodies," Jenny said, "and no hair dryers!"

"I hope we don't go all the way back to World War I," Tara said. "We were studying about that just before school let out, and it sounded awful."

"It was romantic," Jenny said.

"It was cool," Brian added. "War planes filling the sky. The Red Baron. Man, I'd get a real thrill out of hunting down the Red Baron!"

"The fifties would be excellent," David suggested. "Cool cars and cool kids, just like in that movie _Grease_ that we saw last year. Maybe we can go back to that time!"

"Kids…" their mother said ritualistically, and with that they were finally out the door.

Tattoo, who had stood by in silence the entire time, looked at Roarke and shook his head. "I guess I can see what their priorities are. Boss, where do you plan to send them?"

Roarke smiled. "Oh, not so very far back, my friend…but far enough that they may learn something this weekend."

"Don't forget, you're sending Leslie back there too," Tattoo said, frowning. "Not to mention the children of a guest. Does their father know what you plan to do?"

Roarke awarded him an annoyed look. "Do you doubt me that much, Tattoo? When have I been known to mistreat a guest?"

Tattoo thought about this. "Well, there was a time when…"

"That will do," Roarke cut him off. "And by the way, your memory of that time is completely distorted." So saying, he exited through the French doors, leaving Tattoo standing open-mouthed at the desk.

In the meantime, Leslie, Rodney and Joanna had been sitting around an umbrella-shaded table set up in the clearing by the main house, chatting. A little uneasy with one another at first, they had soon warmed enough that Joanna felt bold enough to ask Leslie how she'd happened to become Roarke's ward. Leslie told the story, still a little haltingly at times, blinking back tears once. The Stone children watched with sympathy. "We used to miss Wendy that way too," Rodney remarked.

Leslie tipped her head slightly to one side in surprise. " 'Used to'?"

Rodney scowled, and Joanna made a face. "Well, we did until Mom turned Wendy's death into the most important thing in her life," she said. "Mom's been on a one-woman crusade to find that driver that hit us, and she's turned Wendy's room into a shrine. She's the only one who's even allowed to go in there, and she won't change anything at all—it's like she thinks Wendy just ran away and will be coming back someday. But we were there, and we know Wendy's gone forever."

"You must have had nightmares about the accident," Leslie ventured, "the same way I had them about that fire."

"I bet you did," Rodney said. "Yeah, sometimes Jo and I dream about it. Jo just sees the other car heading for us, but I always see Wendy."

Both Leslie and Joanna looked at him with the same level of surprise. "You never told anybody that," said Joanna.

Rodney cleared his throat. "Jo and I were in the back," he explained to Leslie, "and Wendy was up front with Mom. The other car came at us head-on at first, and Mom swerved to the left trying to avoid it. It hit the passenger side of the car—that's why I was hurt so bad and Wendy was killed. I was sitting behind Wendy, but the seat was crushed and I could see her." He squeezed his eyes shut and winced all at once. "I could be ninety-six and a half and in a nursing home with complete dementia, and I'll still have the memory of the way she looked. Her body was crushed and her face was fractured, and everything was covered in blood." He shuddered so hard the table shook. "To this day I still have that dream, and the last image I see is always Wendy's body…all broken and bloody."

"Does your mother know?" Leslie asked.

Rodney visibly shook off the gruesome memory and looked at the umbrella over their heads with great annoyance. "Why bother? She lives for the memory of Wendy, and she hardly notices Jo and I are there. If the two of us ran away, she probably wouldn't even know we were gone. It's like we don't exist."

"If it weren't for Dad," Joanna agreed, "we probably _would've_ run off by now."

"So we're at the point where we just can't stand the mention of Wendy anymore," Rodney went on. "I mean, look…I'm as sorry as anyone that Wendy died. But we're fed up with Mom's obsession, and it's so out of hand now that Dad's threatening to get a divorce. Dad's the one who's pulled us through all this."

In the middle of Rodney's speech Joanna had been distracted by something, and now she asked, "Who's that?" Leslie turned to look and groaned softly. Emerging from a path known only to the resident islanders were Tommy Ichino and Toki Tokita. As soon as they realized they had her attention, they waved.

"Hey!" shouted Toki. "What's going on out here?"

Leslie chewed on her lip, but Joanna demanded, "Who wants to know?"

"I do," Toki replied. He was fifteen and for some reason enjoyed harassing Leslie, in spite of the fact that Michiko often berated him for doing so. Ever since Leslie's birthday party, he had apparently made it his mission in life to taunt her, and she had no idea why.

"Who said it was any of your business?" Joanna said rudely. "Maybe we don't feel like telling you just because you want to know."

"We don't mean to intrude," Tommy said, "but…well, mind if we join you? I mean, heck, it's the middle of summer and there's not very much to do. We're always interested when there're new people around."

Rodney sized him up and shrugged. "Yeah, if you want." Tommy was sixteen, like Rodney, and had a secret crush on Leslie. Tommy suspected this was also Toki's problem, but Toki had blown it very early on by giving Leslie that ill-chosen birthday present. He himself enjoyed an advantage over Toki in that he had taken care to become Leslie's friend.

"There's only one chair," Leslie said.

Tommy was quicker on the uptake and immediately sat down; not to be outdone, Toki dragged a chair away from one of the other tables and sat between Joanna and Leslie. Joanna hitched her chair away from him and closer to her brother.

"Friends of yours?" Rodney asked Leslie.

Leslie, feeling a bit trapped, nodded. "Well, one of them is anyway. Tommy Ichino, Toki Tokita, meet Rodney and Joanna Stone. Their mom's here for a fantasy."

"Cool," said Tommy. "Where you from?"

"Evansville, Indiana," Rodney replied. "Hate to say it, and it's a long story, but Mom's fantasy isn't exactly what we'd call cool. Jo and I weren't too sure we wanted to go, but Dad figured we could at least break up our boring summer." He and Tommy both grinned.

"How long you planning to stay?" Toki asked suspiciously.

"Just the weekend," Joanna informed him in freezing tones. "So you don't have to worry that us foreigners are invading your precious territory."

"Huh," Toki grumbled, but subsided. Tommy gave Toki a disgusted look, and Rodney squinted distrustfully at both of them. Leslie witnessed all this with a growing unease and decided it was up to her to break the thickening ice.

"So what're you doing this weekend?" she asked, directing the question at Tommy.

Tommy shrugged and relaxed a bit in his chair. "Not much," he said, "at least not for a change. Camille's quad-sitting again—I managed to get out before I could get trapped."

"_Quad_-sitting?" Rodney asked blankly.

Tommy grinned crookedly. "My mother had quadruplets in April," he explained with a deep sigh. "Every reporter on earth came here when they were born, especially after they turned out to be two sets of identical twins, and it took almost a month to get rid of them all. Even now they still make the news, mostly tabloids and stuff. But they just drive us crazy. My sisters Andrea and Camille and I always seem to get dragooned into watching those little bums."

"Wow," said Joanna. "I remember hearing about that now. Your poor mom must be exhausted all the time."

"Boy, you sure got that right," Tommy said vehemently. "We have no social life left because of those four screaming runts. They eat like there was no tomorrow and process it into about 500 dirty diapers a day. And guess who gets to clean them all up?" He made a face that evoked laughter from all of them. "Don't ever wish for more brothers and sisters in your family. I used to want a brother to even things out in mine, and I got my wish and then some. I've been thinking about asking my mother to forgive me."

Again they all laughed, and then Rodney remarked sourly, "Well, that's not too likely to happen in our family. My mother already thinks she has about two kids too many."

"How's that?" Tommy asked curiously, and Rodney briefly explained about the car accident, their sister's death and their mother's obsession.

"That's why she has the fantasy," he said. "I guess Mr. Roarke managed to find the woman who ran into us, and now Mom's on the warpath and determined to get her share of blood out of the proverbial turnip. Nothing we say will change her mind, so I guess Dad figured if she gets it out of her system this weekend, she might go back to normal."

At that point Leslie saw a red station wagon with a candy-striped canopy top come to a stop in the lane near the fountain. "Mr. Roarke's back," she said with relief.

"I hope he got Dad's permission," Joanna said excitedly, already getting up. Leslie joined her, and they both waited for Rodney, who as Toki and Tommy watched flattened his hands on the chair's armrails and pushed himself into a standing position. The girls then accompanied him to the station wagon, matching his pace.

"So he's crippled, huh," Toki muttered.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "He limps, Tokita, but that doesn't make him crippled." He got up and headed back across the clearing, wondering in spite of himself if there was anything between Leslie and Rodney Stone. He had seen how intense the conversation had been as he and Toki came in, and remembered that Rodney's sister had said very little. As for Toki, he didn't think he had much competition there; it was clear that Leslie couldn't stand him, as her hackles seemed to rise every time he was around.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- July 12, 1979

_Through that bridge,_ Roarke had said, _and you'll find your fantasy._ So far all the Knights could see was green, rolling countryside. Corina was enjoying the leisurely walk in the balmy summer air; but once the children had gotten over the idea of time-traveling through a bridge filled with fog, they'd grown rapidly bored and begun complaining about everything they could think of. Corina deliberately tuned them out and continued following a faint trail through the grass, per Roarke's instructions.

"Maybe this is Ireland," she mused aloud after a while. "Or somewhere in the Black Forest in Bavaria. Although since we don't speak any German…"

"I don't care where this is," Brian snapped. "I'm sick of walking, and I have a feeling Mr. Roarke threw us into the middle of nowhere. It's not like we're traipsing along a nice little neighborhood in McMinnville."

"Are we ever gonna get there?" Tara whined. "My feet hurt."

At this point they topped a hill and found themselves staring down into a cozy little valley. They could see a small ranch house nestled into a clump of trees at one end, with a barn standing in the open some distance away. No other buildings were in sight.

"Bavaria, huh?" Brian muttered.

"The hills aren't exactly alive with the sound of music," Jenny contributed sourly.

"That was Austria, you dope, not Bavaria," David told her.

"Maybe that's our farm," Tara burst out, suddenly excited. "I see horses. Gosh, Mr. Roarke must've known I always wanted a pony." Before anyone could stop her, she tore off down the hillside, and her mother and siblings were forced to match her breakneck pace in an attempt to keep her in sight.

They caught up with her a few yards short of the door to the farmhouse, which they could now see was in need of some mostly cosmetic repairs, and managed to stop her from running through the none-too-steady-looking door. "Just a minute, young lady," Corina said sternly. "Mr. Roarke never said a word about us living on a farm. For all we know, this place belongs to other people."

"Well, if it does, where're _we_ supposed to go?" Brian wanted to know.

Before anyone could answer that question, there came a voice from somewhere within the house. "Ian, where are ye?" it yelled in a very feminine, very Scottish brogue. "Seems we ha' visitors!"

"Guess that answers that question," Brian muttered.

The door popped open and a lanky boy peered out at them. "Welcome to the MacCrenna homestead," he said, sounding a little cautious. "Be ye lost?"

David, Jenny and Brian looked at each other, and Tara tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mommy, he has a funny accent," she stage-whispered. Corina sighed and turned red.

"Hush," she said, more harshly than she had intended. To the boy in the doorway, she said, "We're the Knights. These are my children, Brian, David, Tara and Jenny."

"Ah. I'm Ian MacCrenna, and I live here wi' me da, sister an' cousin. So, as I said afore, be ye lost? Ye ha nae even any horses." Ian MacCrenna peered over their shoulders as he spoke and refocused on them in astonishment.

"Tell me about it," Jenny complained. "You'd think Mr. Roarke could've given us a car or maybe even bikes, but we had to walk all the way here."

"A…car? A bike? An' who's Mr. Roarke?" Ian rolled the R in _Roarke_ and Tara giggled.

"Oh, nothing," Corina spoke quickly, improvising. "We've come quite a long way looking for, uh, our relatives who we were told live in this valley, but I guess we did get lost. I thought maybe you might know where to find them."

"To me knowledge there be no family named Knight for miles around," Ian said apologetically. "O'course, we're a bit isolated here…"

"Ian MacCrenna, a poor host ye are," scolded a female voice. That was when a girl with straight dark-blonde hair came into view behind him, and she smiled at them all. "Welcome," she said, "me name is Susanna MacCrenna, an' I'm Ian's cousin."

David peered at Susanna with sudden interest and stuck out his hand. "Hi, Susanna. I'm David Knight." He waited while she stared blankly at his outstretched hand, then went reddish and let it fall. Susanna looked up at him and smiled tentatively.

"Good to meet ye. How came ye here to these parts?" Susanna asked curiously.

"They're searchin' for relations, cousin," Ian told her. "Mayhap ye know of folks named Knight hereabouts."

Susanna shook her head. "Nay, I regret I don't. Ye appear to ha come a great distance. Come in and we'll share what we ha wi' ye. 'Tis nae much, but Kirsty is a wonderful cook. Uncle, we ha' visitors," she called towards the interior.

"Aye, lass," came the reply, and both Ian and Susanna returned their attention to their guests. David was still staring at Susanna, and Ian's features got a strange look to them as this registered on him. Susanna took note and rolled her eyes.

"Get on wi' ye," she said impatiently and vanished inside. Ian gave David a warning look that the other boy missed, but ushered them all inside. Corina urged her children ahead, well aware that David was interested in Susanna and noticing now that Jenny's eyes lingered on Ian on the way in. She stifled a smile; this could make things quite interesting.

They met Patrick MacCrenna, a man as lanky as his son and as light blond as his daughter Kirsty, who stood at the stove tending to a pot of something and peeking into the oven now and then. Kirsty's pale hair was short and close-cut: "Keeps it out o' the pots," she said laconically. The MacCrennas urged the Knights to sit around their table, and within ten minutes everyone had been served bowls of oatmeal accompanied by piping-hot biscuits fresh from the oven.

"Don't you have any Froot Loops?" Tara asked, regarding her oatmeal with distaste.

The MacCrennas stared at her, and her older siblings glanced at each other. Corina turned red again. "Tara, it's very rude to ask questions like that," she warned.

"Well, I don't like oatmeal, Mommy," Tara protested.

"Ye'll like Kirsty's, lass," Patrick MacCrenna assured her. "She adds cinnamon to it, and milk fresh from the cow too. Go on now, take a wee taste."

Tara stared doubtfully into her bowl, but her mother and the others tried it and found it very good. "Delicious," Corina said. "It can't be just cinnamon and milk, though."

Kirsty smiled. "Ah, I've a secret ingredient," she said with a wink at Tara, who stared wide-eyed at her. "Ye'll never ha a chance o' guessin' what it could be if ye don't try it, wee lass. Y'see, the others like it."

Tara finally took a very small bite, eyes squeezed shut, and processed what she tasted. Within a second her eyes popped open and she grinned. "It's really yummy!" she exclaimed. "I hope we can have this at home, Mommy, so find out the secret ingredient quick."

The Knights made a few guesses, but Kirsty simply shook her head at them all and laughed. "Mayhap I'll tell ye one day," she said. "For now 'tis time to wash the dishes. I wish ye luck in finding yer relations."

"I too, Mistress Knight," Susanna said and smiled. She glanced at Ian and her uncle Patrick. "So ha we found anyone to handle the horses yet, uncle?"

"Nay, niece, it seems all those who need employment ha it already," Patrick said with a sigh. "Too many jobs and nae enough folk to take them all."

"We could do it," Brian said, then looked stunned at his own words.

"Aye?" Patrick studied him. "Ha ye experience wi' horses, lad?"

"Been around them for years," Brian told him. "We had show horses before my parents got divorced. Jenny rode in shows for ages, and David and I know how to care for horses." He stopped. "Is something wrong?"

"Divorce?…" Patrick gave his head a quick shake. "I beg pardon, that's nae me concern. An' I know nae what ye'd be wantin' wi' show horses, whatever those be, in these parts. These are workin' horses, lad. But suppose ye an' yer brother come to the barn wi' me an' we'll see what ye're made o'."

"Can I come too?" Tara squealed. "I always wanted my own pony. Daddy said he's getting me one for my birthday, but I don't want to wait till we get back home again."

Patrick told her she could go, and they departed, leaving Corina and Jenny with the two girls and Ian. Susanna and Kirsty were clearing the table and doing dishes; now they turned and peered at Corina. "If 'tis nae pryin', mistress, where be ye from?" Kirsty asked.

"McMinnville, Oregon," Corina said. Jenny seemed absorbed in watching Ian, who for some reason was intently studying his sister and cousin.

"Never heard o' it," Kirsty said blankly, her long muslin dress swirling around her as she turned back to the dishes. Corina blinked and took a good look around her for the first time. The place looked like something out of the _Little House on the Prairie_ books, she realized. The stove at which Kirsty had been cooking and baking looked unimaginably old-fashioned, and the wooden sink had no faucet; an old oaken bucket full of water stood nearby. Nearly everything was crafted from rough-hewn wood. The MacCrennas' clothing was old-fashioned as well, with the girls wearing long dresses and Ian and his father clad in worn shirts and pants with suspenders. Corina began to feel very out-of-place.

Trying to sound nonchalant, she asked, "What's the latest news you've heard? I guess you don't get much, being all the way out here, but I'm sure you hear things occasionally."

Ian chuckled, causing Jenny to sit at attention. "Not quite so far as ye might be believin', mistress. We did get into town for the centennial celebration last week."

"What centennial?" Jenny asked, clearly trying to clue Ian in on her interest in him.

Ian turned to her and stared. "How long ha ye been travelin', Miss Knight? Ye didn't stop somewhere to join in the hundredth anniversary o' the United States o' America?"

Corina cleared her throat. _So we're in the year 1876!_ she thought. "As a matter of fact, we were on…the trail when the big day happened. We were quite a long way from civilization."

"Aye, I imagine ye would be at that," Ian murmured, appraising both her and Jenny with new intensity. "Ye woudn't be travelin' actors, now, would ye?"

"Why would you say that?" Jenny asked blankly.

"Those…costumes." Now it was Kirsty who spoke; Corina could see that both she and Susanna had forgotten their chore and were openly staring at them. "Seems to me ye might belong to an acting company somewhere. Might ye be tellin' me what that would be like? It seems a fascinatin' life."

"Mind yer manners, sister," Ian warned dauntingly.

"Oh, let her be, cousin," Susanna suggested. "It's not every day that we entertain folk, and I'm thinkin' this would be the first time our guests were actors."

"We thought _you_ were actors," Jenny blurted without thinking. "This could be a set on 'Little House on the Prairie', couldn't it, Mom?"

"A wee house this may be," Ian said tartly, "but even ye can see this is no prairie."

Jenny blushed vividly. "I mean…it reminds me of a house…that we saw on the prairie."

_Nice save,_ Corina thought and grinned to herself. "As a matter of fact, we're not actors; these are the latest fashions back east. Sorry to disappoint you, Kirsty. Look, why don't we help you with the dishes? Jenny, I think you have some elbow grease to spare." She gave her daughter a pointed look, and Jenny stared back at her with a _me, wash dishes?_ look. Corina nodded firmly; Jenny sighed in a very put-upon manner and reluctantly rose to join Kirsty and Susanna at the wooden sink.

"We're nearly done anyway," Susanna said, "but we can use some help in the garden. Wi' three o' us weedin', it should take nae time a-tall."

Jenny's expression grew even more horrified, but Corina gave her another glare, and the girl shuffled out the back behind Kirsty and Susanna. Corina smiled apologetically at Ian and wondered if he was aware as she of the fact that Jenny would probably have far preferred to sit and stare at him than yank weeds out of a nineteenth-century garden.

"What can I do to help?" she asked Ian.

He smiled. "There's mendin' to be done," he admitted, "although I'd nae put a guest to work. That's Susanna's job at any rate."

"As a matter of fact," Corina said delicately, "I was going to ask if you could use some hired help, at least for a couple of days. We were looking for temporary jobs so that we could earn a few dollars to keep traveling and find our relatives."

Ian considered this. "Well, I'll ask me da. Mayhap there are some things ye could do, though we haven't much cash to spare. Make yourself comfortable, mistress. I'll return in nae time." He pushed himself out of the chair, using the table as leverage, and made his way to the back door with a noticeable limp. Corina wondered what had happened.

An hour later, the Knight family had been hired on: Brian and David caring for the horses; Corina and Jenny as household help; and Tara to feed the chickens, a job at which she protested because she wanted to be around the horses. Corina scolded her firmly, but saw the MacCrennas' eyes on her and wondered if they thought she wasn't much of a mother. For the first time she began to doubt two days would cure any of their spoiled-rich-child tendencies. Jenny kept eyeing Ian, and David's gaze kept straying to Susanna like iron to a magnet, which for some reason drew constant glowers from Ian. Was this fantasy going to be worth it?

‡ ‡ ‡

After supper the Knight family disappeared to the barn, where they were to sleep in the hayloft, as there was no room in the house. Silence fell till they were gone; then Rodney and Joanna Stone, their father Jonathan, and Leslie Hamilton looked at one another with some doubt. "Spoiled rich kids," Rodney said.

Joanna grinned slyly at him. "Don't be so quick to write 'em off, big brother," she advised him. "Jenny Knight has the hots for you."

"No more than David Knight has them for Leslie," Rodney shot back with a scowl. "I'd like to tell him where to get off."

"I'm not sure that would be a very good idea, son," his father said, half grinning. "Just because you and David are eyeing the same girl, there's no reason to start a brawl."

Poor Leslie was blushing so hard she was sure her head was going to explode at any moment. "Do we really have to talk about this?" she mumbled, head hanging.

"Of course not," Joanna said immediately. "Hey, believe me, Leslie, I wish I had that much male attention sometimes. David and his brother are both kinda cute, but Brian's way older than I am." She grinned. "This is turning out to be fun after all. It was fun pretending we had no idea what Jenny and David were talking about when they mentioned stuff from our real life. Guess we had 'em fooled."

"Indeed," Roarke's voice remarked from out of the blue, "you are all doing an excellent job." They all looked around and blinked at sight of him standing near the front door; only Leslie managed to hide her surprise.

"Well, we'd never have pulled it off if it weren't for those little chocolates we ate that gave us the Scottish accents," Leslie told him.

"I wish I could take some of those home with me," Joanna said, "and that way I'd get a part in the school musical next year. I heard it's going to be 'Brigadoon'."

They all laughed, and Roarke came farther into the room and took a seat near Leslie. "Do the Knights seem to be settling in all right?"

"Mainly," Jonathan Stone said, "except for quite a few accidental references to current culture. That poor woman's really got her hands full with four spoiled kids. The boys can take care of horses all right, but they're used to show horses and have no clue about the gear for working horses. The girl keeps staring at Rodney, one of the boys keeps staring at Leslie, and the little girl still has the idea that she's getting a pony." Once more they laughed; then he grew serious and leaned forward in his chair. "Mr. Roarke, if I might ask…is my wife getting what she wants?"

Roarke sobered. "I spoke with her just before coming here to check up on you. She doesn't appear to have changed her single-mindedness about her goal, I am afraid—and that is unfortunate in the extreme, since it is my understanding that Angela Gorman is severely depressed and a suicide risk. It stems from guilt over the accident and the way she initially reacted to it."

"So what you're saying," Jonathan said slowly, "is that Ellen is so bent on getting her brand of justice, she refuses to see any extenuating circumstances."

"Precisely," Roarke said. "She has yet to actually confront Ms. Gorman, but the lady knows your wife is here."

"Then she'll probably force a showdown," Rodney said bitterly. "Shootout at twenty paces, or whatever. It'll look like the O.K. Corral, without guns."

"You won't let my mother do anything to that poor lady, Mr. Roarke, will you?" Joanna asked anxiously. "If she's suicidal like you said, having to face Mom will probably push her right over the edge. And there're plenty of cliffs on the island—we saw them from the plane and all. I'd feel horrible if she committed suicide on our account."

Roarke smiled at her. "Don't worry, Joanna," he said. "I'll see to it that no harm comes to Ms. Gorman. In the meantime, you may want to get some sleep. I myself will be checking on the Knights." He turned to Leslie. "And you, child, how are you faring?"

She grinned. "This is fun, Mr. Roarke," she said. "I hope you'll let me do something like this again sometime."

He chuckled and squeezed her hand while Rodney, Joanna and their father watched, all wearing smiles. "Perhaps the opportunity will come up again one day. You'll be all right here for the night, then?"

Leslie nodded. "Joanna and I are sharing a room, so it'll be kind of like a slumber party." She and Joanna grinned at each other, and Roarke smiled, noting in passing the oddly wistful expression Rodney wore. No question, the boy was interested in his young ward. So far, Leslie either was oblivious or simply chose not to deal with it. He wondered how she was handling the added attention from David Stone and had a feeling that by the time this fantasy ended tomorrow afternoon, there was going to be some sort of "showdown" of just the sort to which Rodney had earlier referred.

He went off to the barn where the Knights were ensconced and found them sitting awake in the hayloft. "I wish there was a nice mattress," he heard someone say through a yawn, and smiled to himself before making his presence known.

"Mr. Roarke!" they all exclaimed in chorus.

"Good evening, everyone," he replied, smiling. "It appears you're having quite the adventure." This drew a smile from Corina; her offspring seemed to have mixed impressions, however, judging from the variety of looks on their faces.

"There's this really cute guy," Jenny volunteered. "I hope I get to see more of him, since I'm doing stuff with Mom in the house. Heck, once I'm done on the sewing machine, I'll have loads of time to talk to Ian."

Corina snickered, and Roarke's eyes sparkled with amusement. Before he could speak, David said, "I think that girl Susanna is pretty nice-looking, but I have to take care of the horses…so I don't know if I'll get a chance to talk with her."

"These horses are completely different from ours," Brian said, shaking his head. "I can't believe they're so backward here as to use horses to do work! Haven't they ever heard of tractors and harvesters and milking machines?"

"I'd rather feed the horses than the stupid chickens," Tara contributed. "All they do is go _cluck-cluck-cluck_ at me, and they peck my feet unless I throw the corn real far away. And y'know what, they use corn…real live _people_ corn! I thought they'd have chicken food here, but they don't. And they talk funny and wear funny clothes like in—"

" 'Little House on the Prairie'," the other Knights chorused with her. Corina sighed and shook her head, then began to laugh. Roarke watched quietly, his own amusement still confined to the gleam in his dark eyes; but Corina, having had her fill of her children's disillusionment, had apparently found their confusion hilarious. The children stared at her in disbelief and growing indignation.

"What's so funny?" they began to demand.

Corina tried to catch her breath, but her merriment had gotten the better of her and she could only flap a hand, rocking back and forth where she sat and guffawing uncontrollably. Roarke chuckled and explained, "You see, children, you're in the year 1876. That's why everything seems so primitive to you. Your hosts are immigrant farmers from Scotland, trying to make a living from this new land of theirs."

The four youngsters looked at each other, stunned. Then Brian said ironically, "No phones, no lights, no motorcars."

"Not a single luxury," David added and grinned at his brother. "Like _Gilligan's Island_ without the coconuts."

Jenny's face had filled with horror. "No electricity? No running water? Not even a bathroom? Oh my God!!"

"Wait'll you see the outhouse, sis," Brian taunted, beginning to laugh himself.

Corina finally recovered enough to say, "Okay, that's enough. But I have to tell you, you guys are positively priceless. Worse than that, all four of you are a bunch of wimps. No cars or tractors for you to drive, Brian. No hair dryers or telephones, Jenny. No milking machines, no sewing machines, no light switches on the walls…and no special food for the animals, Tara. This is how life was in the nineteenth century."

"Why on earth would you bring us back to something so primitive?" Brian wanted to know. "You didn't think we'd learn a lesson any other way?"

"Frankly," Corina said, losing patience, "no! Asking for Froot Loops when you've been served breakfast by folks who probably have barely enough for themselves. Complaining about walking and thinking you should have been provided with transportation. Bragging about show horses when most people can't afford the care and upkeep of a horse. Thinking every luxury in the universe is your due simply because your father has the money to give it to you—and knowing full well he'll just hand it right over to you, especially once he hears I can't or won't do it." She turned away and brushed at her eyes; her children glanced guiltily at one another. "Whatever happened to the days when the five of us could just pop out to a matinee after lunch on Saturday, share a tub of popcorn among us all and have a good time doing nothing more than that? No…now it has to be the newest luxury car in existence, or a pony, or trendy clothes, whatever's in vogue at the moment. What's so wonderful about all that stuff? I was hoping this weekend would remind you kids of what a good time we used to have playing board games on Sunday afternoons, and things like that. But I guess that's just not highbrow enough for you anymore." Frustrated and finally out of words, she descended the ladder from the hayloft as quickly as she could go, without even noticing that Roarke had vanished into seemingly nowhere.

After a very long silence, Tara mumbled, "I don't want any old pony after all."


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- July 13, 1979

When Leslie awoke in the morning, she realized she was hearing odd noises and low voices from somewhere in the farmhouse. She lifted her head and peered through the doorway, unable to make out anything in the dim morning light. Deciding to investigate, she tossed back the blankets and managed to get out of the bed without awakening Joanna, swiftly donning the clothing and persona of Susanna MacCrenna. Just before going out the door, she remembered the box of chocolates and hastily ate one. It would never do to lose that accent; she'd be exposed as an instant fraud.

She was still chewing when Joanna woke up and sat up in the bed. "What's wrong?"

Leslie hurriedly gulped the candy. "D'ye hear noises?" she whispered.

Joanna listened for a moment and nodded. "You're right. Better go see." Leslie waited while she dressed, then handed the other girl a chocolate. Joanna grinned sheepishly when she'd swallowed and murmured, "Me mother'd have a fit, she would, if she ever heard I ate chocolates for breakfast." The two girls snickered companionably, then gathered themselves together and stole out of the room toward the living room and kitchen.

To their complete astonishment, Jenny Knight was cooking breakfast; Tara was setting the table; Corina sat on the sofa diligently stitching together a torn garment. As they watched, Brian came into the kitchen door lugging a load of firewood for the stove, with David a few paces behind him toting the big oaken bucket full of water.

" 'Tis a miracle, it is," Joanna whispered in her Kirsty voice.

The sound made Corina look up, and she gasped loudly enough to catch her children's attention. "Oh no. Did we wake you girls?" she asked.

"Nay, nay, dinna trouble yourself about that," Leslie assured her, now fully immersed in her role as Susanna. "We just never expected to see what we're seein'."

"Aye, that would be God's truth," Joanna/Kirsty agreed, grinning. "But it's a lovely sight, Mistress Knight, that it is."

"Ian'll thank ye for carryin' that wood an' water," Leslie/Susanna remarked. " 'Tis nae his favorite chore." They all laughed.

David grinned foolishly at her. "Heck, it's nothing," he said, nearly dropping the bucket as he spoke. His brother and sisters laughed at him, and he rolled his eyes in their direction. "Shut up, Jenny," he suggested. "You don't have much room to talk anyway."

"Zip your lip, David Andrew Knight," Jenny hissed, reddening suddenly.

"Okay, folks, cut the chatter," Corina advised. "There's work to be done."

Not long thereafter, Rodney and Jonathan Stone, dressed and accented as Ian and Patrick, emerged from the room they had been sharing and expressed surprise and appreciation for the work the Knights were doing. When Jenny set a bowl of oatmeal in front of him, Rodney took a good, thoughtful look at her and decided maybe she wasn't quite so bad after all. He smiled at her and she smiled back, blushing.

"Why, lass, ye're nearly as good a cook as my Kirsty," Jonathan, as Patrick, praised Jenny then, and she grinned foolishly.

"Maybe I'll go to a cooking school when we get back," she remarked with a shrug. "I never thought I was much good at it, but it's kind of fun."

Corina, as well, was surprised to find she could hand-stitch as well as she did, and had somehow managed to learn to knit as well. Tara had established as much of a rapport as one could hope for with the chickens; David and Brian had absorbed more knowledge of working horses' gear than even they had realized. Everyone was getting along so well that it startled the Knights in mid-afternoon when they were outside, mother and daughters weeding the garden and sons repairing loose shutters at the windows, and Roarke stepped into view from around the front of the house.

"Your fantasy has ended," he said quietly.

"Do we have to go back, Mr. Roarke?" Tara complained, and Corina smiled.

Roarke nodded, chuckling softly. "Yes, I'm afraid so. I presume that means you've learned to enjoy your time here."

"It's been fun," Jenny realized. Her brothers nodded.

"Yeah, this is some workout," Brian admitted. "It's actually better than the gym, you know? Maybe I'll see if some stuff needs to be done at home, Mom."

"Can we get some chickens for the backyard, Mommy?" Tara asked, and they all laughed. Corina ruffled her daughter's hair.

"Is it all right if we say goodbye to the MacCrennas, Mr. Roarke?" she asked.

Roarke smiled and nodded. "By all means," he agreed.

So Corina, trailed by Jenny and David, made her way inside and said diffidently, "I thought we should…make our farewells. We just saw someone who knows where some of our relatives live, and he offered to take us to them."

"Well, then, right glad I am to hear o' that, mistress," Patrick MacCrenna said, "but I daresay we'll miss ye. We thank ye all very kindly for the work ye did for us here."

"It's nothing," David said, eyeing Susanna. "I just wish we didn't have to go so far, so that maybe somehow we could see each other again."

"Me too," Jenny murmured wistfully, ostensibly for them all but plainly meaning her words for Ian.

"Ah, like as not we'll see one another in town sometime soon," Susanna suggested and smiled. "An' we look forward to it, we do." They said goodbye, and Corina ushered David and Jenny out ahead of her, where they joined Tara and Brian in trailing Roarke back to the time-travel bridge and their real lives.

About fifteen minutes later, Roarke returned for the rest of them. "Your little interlude has come to an end also, I'm afraid," he said with an apologetic smile.

"Just as well," Rodney remarked. "My accent candy wore off before the Knights left, and I was afraid to say a word for fear I'd give myself away."

Leslie's and Joanna's giggles died abruptly, and Jonathan Stone blinked, when Roarke said, "You should have avoided the caramel cream. I apologize for not warning you about that one." With that he walked out the door.

"How'd he know I ate a caramel cream?" Rodney demanded, pushing himself to his feet and limping toward the door in Roarke's wake. The girls and his father began to laugh as they followed him out.

‡ ‡ ‡

A couple of hours later Leslie emerged from the main house, dressed in a white tank top and white shorts over a swimsuit, with the intention of meeting Joanna Stone at the pool and introducing her to her other friends. She was just coming down the porch steps when a shout hailed her. "Hey, Sukey!"

Leslie groaned to herself. Only one person ever called her by that ridiculous nickname, which she couldn't stand; it was a hokey-sounding derivative of her middle name. In the hope he would go away if ignored, she continued along down the lane, trying to walk faster. Unfortunately, Toki Tokita didn't get the hint.

"Hey," he persisted. "Where you been all weekend?"

Exasperated, she shot him a look. "Why do you care?"

Toki shrugged. "Just wanna know. You been out with Ichino?"

Leslie stared at him. "Out? With Tommy? On a _date?"_

"Or that crippled guy you were with yesterday," Toki added.

Leslie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to glare at him full force. _"What_ 'crippled guy'?" she demanded, low-voiced and very, very angry.

"The one that's visiting and limps," Toki said, as if she were about three years old. _"That_ crippled guy."

Her eyes blazed. "Are you naturally stupid, or do you have to practice a lot? For your information, Rodney Stone is not a cripple, as you so crudely put it. He walks with a limp because of a serious injury he sustained in a car wreck. He almost died, you moron. And just what is it to you anyway who I hang out with? Do you think you're my keeper or something? Rodney is a guest here, and even you ought to be civilized enough to treat him with decency and common courtesy!" So saying, she whirled and stomped away up the Main House Lane in a good, roiling rage. Even Toki realized he'd pushed her too far and let her go, staring after her in surprise.

"Well, congratulations, Tokita. Real nice going," said a dry voice from behind him.

Toki turned and shot Tommy Ichino a hostile look. "Who asked you?"

Tommy regarded him calmly. "Tell me something. Do you actually like Leslie, or does it just amuse you to make her mad?"

Toki spoke through clenched teeth. "I _said_, who asked you?"

Tommy shook his head. "Well, if you actually do like Leslie, which I'm not so sure about, I've got just two things to tell you. Number one, the more you goad her, the more she's going to hate you, not like you back—just in case you haven't figured that out. You've probably already done too much damage as it is, if you ever hoped to be friends with her. And number two, if you were thinking of her in terms of boyfriend and girlfriend, I'm here to inform you that you're gonna have serious competition, namely me. Besides, I'm a few steps ahead of you—I'm already her friend." Tommy walked off whistling, leaving Toki to glare after him and stew in frustration.

Tommy, in his turn, got quite a little shock not twenty minutes later when he made his way to the pool and saw Leslie sitting with Joanna Stone, Michiko Tokita, Lauren McCormick, Myeko Sensei and his own sister Camille. He was just in time to witness the approach of a blond-haired boy, a complete stranger, who glanced at Leslie, did a double-take and stopped to peer more closely at her.

Leslie noticed instantly. "Something wrong?" she asked.

"N-no…it's just that you look like…" David Knight began. He leaned down and studied her so minutely that she drew back in her seat, just perceptibly. "Well, maybe I was wrong. What's your name?"

"Leslie Hamilton," she said. "I live with Mr. Roarke."

David reared back and blinked. "Oh! Well, you might understand. There was this girl in my mother's fantasy…Susanna MacCrenna…and you could be her identical twin sister. You're an absolute dead ringer for her."

He was so enamored that he didn't noticed the looks of mingled curiosity and fascination on Leslie's friends, nor the way Joanna was trying desperately not to laugh. Leslie eyed him innocently and asked, "Am I really?"

David grinned widely. "Oh yeah. I thought she was really pretty, and how great it'd be if she lived in the twentieth century. Guess I got my fantasy." The other girls giggled; he glanced at them, but it was plain he had eyes only for Leslie. "I heard they're having a luau tonight. Uh…and I was wondering, uh, would you come to it with me?"

Leslie blushed as though someone had thrown a switch inside her head. "I'd say yes," she admitted after a moment, "but I'm actually _in_ the luau. All us girls have been practicing this hula dance for weeks, and we all have to be there early to get ready." She glanced at her friends for help. "Right, guys?"

Michiko, Lauren and Myeko nodded; Camille shrugged, grinning, and Joanna hid a snicker behind one hand. David glanced at them, but still didn't seem to really notice any of them, even Joanna. "In that case," he said, "when you're done, why don't you come and sit with me? I think I can break away from my family. You could tell me what it's like living on Fantasy Island and having Mr. Roarke for your dad, or whatever he is."

"He's my guardian," Leslie explained and managed to mostly stifle a smile. "I guess if you're going to hear the whole story, I might as well come and sit with you after the hula."

"Great!" David burst out. 'Super! Thanks, Leslie, see you there!" He trotted off with a smile that threatened to split his face in two.

"Wow, that guy's got a major crush on you," Myeko said enviously. "How cool! Are you really gonna sit with him, Leslie?"

"I promised him I would," she said, going pink under their stares. "It'd be incredibly rude not to, after that." She grinned sheepishly. "I can't believe he didn't even notice you, Joanna. After all, you were in his mother's fantasy too."

"No way!" her friends exclaimed and demanded the story. While Joanna and Leslie were telling the others about their weekend, Tommy sighed deeply and straightened up. He didn't know that kid's name, but it looked as if he was going to have to show him his place. After all, the guy didn't even live here! He left without being seen by the girls.

Several tables away, Rodney Stone looked up in surprise when Jenny Knight sat down near him. "Hi there."

Jenny smiled. "Hi," she said. "I hope this seat isn't taken."

"No," Rodney said, wondering if she had recognized him from the fantasy.

"You look like someone I met this weekend," Jenny said. "I thought I'd come over and say hi…because that guy sure was cute, and you look just like him. My name's Jenny Knight."

"Rodney Stone," he said and shook hands with her. "I'm sixteen."

"Me too," she said, brightening. "How come you're sitting here all by yourself? Didn't you come with your family?"

Rodney sighed. "Yeah, I'm here with my parents and sister. My mother has this kind of bizarre fantasy, and the rest of us are fed up with it…" He hesitated, glanced around, then leaned forward. "Listen, Jenny, I gotta come clean. I already knew you before you sat down." He proceeded to explain his role in her mother's fantasy and the reason he had been there, while Jenny listened in amazement.

"Does that mean we weren't really in 1876?" she finally asked.

Rodney grinned. "I wouldn't go that far," he said. "Leslie said Mr. Roarke likes to keep things as authentic as he possibly can, so we really did go back in time. It's just that we were kind of helping with your mom's fantasy, so my dad and sister and I wouldn't have to spend the whole weekend thinking about _my_ mom's fantasy."

"Wow." Jenny mulled it over for a moment, then looked up and grinned at him. "You know, I'm glad it worked out this way. It means we can get to know each other, and it also means that maybe, if you want, and if you don't mind my asking, you could take me to the luau tonight. Unless you're doing something else."

Rodney shook his head and smiled at her. "Nope, I didn't have any plans at all…but I do now. Which bungalow are you in? I'll come over about six."


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- July 13, 1979

By five o'clock Ellen Stone had reached the very end of her rope and would no longer be put off. All weekend long she had been carefully monitoring every move Angela Gorman made; now the woman had finally left the hotel and the supervision of others, and Ellen was certain she would at last get her due out of the person who had ruined her life.

She quietly followed Angela Gorman along a trail that wound through towering palm trunks in the general direction of a cliff overlooking the ocean. After some fifteen minutes of walking, Angela came to a halt and stared out over the sea, a slight, forlorn figure in a visibly stooped stance. She looked beaten down by life, but all Ellen saw was the woman who had killed her daughter. How dare she stand there, alive and well, when her precious, innocent Wendy was dead? She clenched her fists and stepped out of the trees.

"Angela Gorman, it's time for you to pay up," she said harshly.

Angela spun around and stared at Ellen blankly for a moment; then Ellen's identity registered and a resigned look came into her eyes. "So you've caught up with me," she said lifelessly. "What do you want from me? Money?"

"I want you to take the punishment you earned," Ellen told her, advancing a slow step at a time. "You deserve the worst penalty there is for killing my daughter and leaving the rest of us there on the road. Nobody else would bring you to justice, so I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands."

Angela shrugged. "Go ahead, then," she said. "There's nothing you can do to me that I haven't already done to myself. I've been living through hell for five years, and whatever you mete out will come as a relief."

"You don't deserve any kind of relief!" Ellen shouted shrilly. "You deserve to suffer, the same way I've suffered ever since you destroyed my life in your drunken haze!"

At that Angela abruptly stiffened. "I wasn't drunk," she said flatly.

"You lie!" Ellen screamed, nearly hysterical in her rage.

"No, I'm not lying," Angela snapped back. "I was on a prescription drug and coming home from an emergency refill. I didn't even realize the damn thing was going to make me drowsy behind the wheel." Her voice trailed into remembered horror. "I'll never forget those headlights, coming at me. I panicked. I couldn't face what I had done, and I spent five years running away. But I never escaped the memories, the nightmares…" She refocused on Ellen. "Do your worst, Mrs. Stone. It can't match the punishment I've given myself."

"Try me," snarled Ellen. "You don't deserve to stand here alive when my Wendy can't be here because of you!"

"Oh, you want me dead," Angela said, eerily calm. "An eye for an eye, is that it? A life for a life. Well, I've been thinking about doing this for quite some time anyway, so maybe I'll just give you the satisfaction." She turned to face the cliff and began to walk toward it.

"Mrs. Stone," Roarke's voice said, and Ellen yanked her head around nearly enough to snap her own neck with shock at his sudden, out-of-nowhere appearance. How had he known she and that woman were going to be here, at this moment? "Is it truly worth gaining revenge to see another life lost?"

Ellen Stone glared. "She doesn't deserve to live," she hissed.

"And who are you to make that decision?" Roarke asked pointedly, voice steely. "Is it up to you to dictate whether she lives or dies?"

Angela Gorman paused long enough to turn and gaze sadly at him. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Mr. Roarke," she said, "but it doesn't matter. I took a life five years ago, and I guess it's time to pay the price, just as she said. I can't live with the pain of what I've done anymore. This is the only way I can make peace with myself."

"There are other ways, Ms. Gorman," Roarke assured her. "Wendy Stone's father, brother and sister have long since forgiven you for what transpired that night."

Angela stared at him disbelievingly. "How can that be?"

"They realized long ago that nurturing their anger and resentment would never bring Wendy back," Roarke said, speaking as much to Ellen as to Angela. "Nothing can bring her back, ever. Wendy is gone, Mrs. Stone, and you must learn to live with that and get on with your life. Your son and daughter need you. Your husband needs you."

Ellen stared at him for a very long moment—and Angela began to walk toward the cliff again. "It doesn't matter," they heard her say. "It's what you want, Mrs. Stone, so I hope this will satisfy you."

Roarke knew instantly that he was too far away from her to prevent her impending plunge over the clifftop, but he sprinted for her nonetheless. It was then that Ellen Stone understood that Angela was deadly serious in her intent to commit suicide, and unexpected fear seized her. She was close enough to stop her, and instinct sent her racing for the other woman, grabbing Angela's arm just as she extended one foot over the edge.

"No, you can't!" Ellen cried and yanked Angela backwards so fiercely that both women tumbled to the ground. Angela struggled to pull away from her and back towards the cliff, but Ellen hung on with all her strength until Angela gave up and broke into wrenching sobs. Roarke knelt beside them as Ellen stared down at Angela.

"She was really serious, wasn't she, Mr. Roarke?" Ellen murmured.

"Yes, indeed she was, Mrs. Stone. All this time you were convinced that your life was forever altered by an alcoholic who climbed behind the wheel while intoxicated, when in fact it was no more than the drowsiness brought on by a prescription drug. She has lived with every bit as much pain as you have."

Ellen drew in a deep breath and met Roarke's gaze. "Well, if I can find a reason to forgive her—and I think I just did—then maybe I can help her find a way to forgive herself." She matched Roarke's smile and turned back to Angela. "Come on, let's go. I think you and I need to have a long talk and try to purge ourselves of a lot of old pain."

Roarke watched them go and rose slowly to his feet, smiling. He felt tension drain out of him and relaxed imperceptibly. He was going to look forward to the luau.

‡ ‡ ‡

As David Knight had been told, the "Hula Girls" act consisted of Michiko Tokita, Lauren McCormick, Myeko Sensei, Camille Ichino and a very embarrassed Leslie Hamilton, who all during the dance was painfully aware of all the eyes on her. To be fair, the luau attendees were watching the other girls every bit as much as Leslie; but of course, in that position, it's impossible to tell whether someone is watching you or the person directly beside you. So it looked to Leslie as if everyone was staring at her. Thus it was an enormous relief to take her seat when the dance finally ended, although within just a few minutes, David appeared by her side.

"I thought you were sitting with me," he said playfully, which remark earned Leslie surprised glances from both Roarke and Tattoo.

Leslie shrugged self-consciously. "I guess with all those people watching to see if I messed up, I kind of forgot everything else. I'm sorry. You could sit here if you want."

David grinned back with enthusiasm. "Sure, sounds great! Let me get us something to drink and I'll be right back." She nodded agreement, and he was shortly lost in the hungry crowd that surrounded the banquet tables.

"Don't tell me you had a date," Roarke said, eyeing her.

Leslie promptly blushed and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, since I was in the hula dance, I couldn't exactly come along with him. He knew that anyway. But when it was over, I was too embarrassed to even remember I was supposed to go sit with him."

Roarke laughed. "Actually, Leslie, you were quite good—all five of you were. In any case, it appears we've matched up that young man's sister, Jenny, with Rodney Stone. Do you see them sitting together over there?"

"Wow," said Leslie, following his gaze. "That's great! I'm really glad for them both."

Tattoo had been idly watching the buffet crowd, and now something caught his eye. "Boss," he broke in, "I think we've got a problem." He gestured at the far end of the table.

"It looks like someone fighting," said Leslie, who could see only several heads bobbing and swaying energetically in a small disturbed clump toward the end of the lines at the tables. Her statement was enough to make Roarke get to his feet; Leslie and Tattoo followed. Roarke excused the three of them with a few quick words as they wove through the throngs, and at last broke out into a small open area near the edge of the clearing where the luau was being held. That's where they found themselves facing three teenaged boys: Toki Tokita, Tommy Ichino, and David Knight.

There was apparently a three-way scuffle going on; Toki and Tommy had both grabbed David, who seemed to be trying to defend himself, and there was a great deal of pushing and yelling going on. Roarke's voice froze them all. "What exactly is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

David looked trapped; Tommy reddened guiltily. Only Toki had the courage to say anything. "It's on account of Leslie," he said, unusually respectfully.

"_What!"_ exclaimed Roarke, thoroughly bewildered, and his gaze predictably shifted to a startled Leslie.

"I had nothing to do with this, Mr. Roarke!" she protested, horrified.

"Tokita, you and your big mouth," Tommy snapped. He turned to Roarke. "It's true, sir, Leslie knew nothing about this. I just made a stupid mistake. I was going to ask Leslie to the luau this evening, except this guy here beat me to it. And, well, I sort of saw red. I was going to talk to him, but then…"

"This other character showed up," David added, giving Toki an annoyed glare, "and started carrying on about 'outsiders' and how I had no business asking out a girl who lives here when I have to go home tomorrow, and so on. I couldn't stand there and let him insult me like that. Besides, he was talking about someone named 'Sukey', whoever that is."

Leslie let out a pained moan, catching Tattoo's attention for a moment. "You know who this 'Sukey' is supposed to be?" he asked her.

"Me," Leslie said, glaring daggers at Toki. "That's his idea of a nickname for me. It comes from my middle name. You know—Susan, Sukey."

"I don't know if he's jealous or not," David said, eyeing Toki oddly. "I always thought if a guy liked a girl, he didn't call her names."

"Me too," said Tommy. "Anyway, Mr. Roarke, I sort of lost my head, and I'm sorry for my part in this. I guess you could say I started it. David here was just trying to defend himself. It really wasn't his doing at all."

Roarke nodded slowly a couple of times, absorbing the explanation and Tommy's apology; then he turned to Toki. "What of you, young man?"

Toki, looking startled, stared at Roarke. "I didn't do anything," he protested.

That earned him threatening glares from the other boys, and Leslie snorted, "Ha!"

"Current testimony and past experience tells me otherwise," Roarke informed Toki dryly. "It would seem I have no choice but to bar you from attending future luaus, Toki. This isn't the first time I've seen evidence of trouble caused by you. Quite puzzling really, since your father is the sheriff." Tommy and David promptly backed off a step or two, and Roarke visibly squelched a smile.

"Goodbye, Toki," Leslie said sweetly, punctuating the words with a little wave. That gave the disgruntled boy no other choice but to head away into the surrounding jungle.

"So, then, what do you think should be done, Leslie?" Roarke inquired.

Tattoo laughed outright at her stunned expression. "Don't be too hard on them, Leslie," he teased her. "It's only their first offense."

Leslie, quite red by now, rolled her eyes. "Cut it out, _please."_ She stared at the ground for a moment, thinking it over, then sighed gently. "Since it _is_ David's last night on the island…and since I did tell him I'd sit with him at the luau this evening…well, he's got dibs, I suppose." David smiled; Roarke chuckled and nodded at both him and Leslie, and the two of them walked away into the crowd.

Tommy looked defeated. "Might as well go home and quad-sit," he said resignedly. "Nothing better to do anyway. Good night, Mr. Roarke and Tattoo." So saying, he plunged into the jungle, following the path Toki had taken.

"Poor Leslie," Tattoo said, grinning widely. "I bet she's sorry she ever told me boys don't notice her. Now she's almost got a harem. The Leslie Hamilton Admiration Society. An exclusive club."

"I think it's quite fortunate, my friend, that Leslie isn't within earshot," Roarke said, "or you might find yourself suffering the consequences of her wrath."

Tattoo peered up at Roarke. "You're not gonna tell her, are you, boss? You know I was only having a little fun."

Roarke smiled mysteriously and returned to the luau, leaving Tattoo standing there with a worried look. _Aw, he wouldn't do that to me…would he? Wait a minute…maybe he would! No, he wouldn't…_ Groaning at his own inner debate, he threw his hands into the air and strode off into the crowd.

* * *

_Next in this series: Leslie turns fifteen with the biggest birthday party she's ever dreamed of. Stay tuned!_


End file.
